Lest We Forget
by Black Casanova
Summary: Sacrifices must be made. Sephiroth/Genesis. Yaoi. Smut. Pre-Crisis Core.


Totally inspired by one of the chapters in Kysis' "Memory of Falling". ilu.

Disclaimer - Chracters are not mine.

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Lest We Forget

Sephiroth was sleeping, deeply, soundly; curled up on his right side under the thin black satin sheets that shimmered in the gentle lamplight as he breathed. The contours and curves of his body were enticing with the silver hair that cascaded like waterfalls down every dip of defined muscle. Genesis sucked in a quiet breath and continued on through the doorway.

What he was planning, or was being forced into planning by the powers that be, invisible and malevolent as they were, would be hard… hell, he was sure the first few weeks he'd be near suicidal. Being without Sephiroth was always a struggle, no matter how much he tried to conceal it behind an arrogant sneer and an indifferent shrug whenever Sephiroth playfully asked him whether he had missed him during the days he was away on missions.

Now, Genesis didn't know how long they would be separated for. Until he had healed his affliction and done away with ShinRa, he planned to stay away, if only to return to those warm arms and see nothing but admiration for his bravery and heroism in mako green eyes. The fantasy would be enough for him until that time, Genesis urged himself to believe.

He shrugged his coat off his shoulders, wincing from the pang that ran down his left arm from the shoulder that had still not healed completely. Hanging the red leather garment at the back of the door with his left hand, his right comforted the tension of his shoulder from the questionable lump he tried his best to hide. Inevitably, Sephiroth and his wandering hands had found it, and inquired, but Genesis had so far been able to throw him off with murmurs of the incident that had torn a rift between them and exposed his pain at probing fingers. If Sephiroth knew what it _really_ was…

_But he won't. Not until I'm ready,_ Genesis uttered silently to himself. Slowly, he began to undress completely. Efficiently. Leather boots were slid off slim legs brusquely and set against the wall besides Sephiroth's. Due to height and heels, the feet of Sephiroth's boots were longer than his own, and when adjacent they mocked him. Always inferior. Always smaller. Never enough.

Genesis snapped his head around, glaring at the man himself. Always so damn perfect. So damn beautiful. Biting his lip, Genesis forcibly reminded himself that what had happened and how the world had turned out wasn't Sephiroth's fault. Only their relationship was his fault, and its break down. He was too dominant, too assertive and needing to see Genesis always below him, begging and mewling until he was utterly spent. And though Genesis admittedly (to himself) enjoyed being prey to this sexual dominance, it infuriated him.

Tonight, he'd submit for the last time, he decided. After this morning, they would be equals and Sephiroth would treat him as such. Genesis focused on that thought, pushing his vindictiveness to the back of his mind for this night.

Sephiroth was breathing steadily, telling of a peaceful sleep without the nightmares that usually haunted him. The satin sheet was easily pulled off his figure, patrician features twisting from the rush of cold air against warm skin.

Smirking, Genesis pressed the General onto his back against the firm mattress. For a moment his fingers flexed malevolently, so close to the pale column that was the man's neck. He clenched his fists, lowered his head as he settled his naked weight upon Sephiroth's lean hips. He began to rain nips and bites upon exposed flesh.

Again, Sephiroth stirred; hands rose to grip tightly to Genesis' sides, running down to the sharp angles of his hips. The redhead bared his teeth and hissed out a breath in irritation, glaring down at the man below him from his place at the dip of the collarbone.

_For tonight_, he hushed himself. _Endure_. Make him feel secure. Find pleasure in watching him break. Then be ready to pick up the broken pieces and have him at your feet. Make him feel that everything was as it was, before the madness; before the degradation… before the mutation.

Genesis raised his head, propping himself up by his arms on Sephiroth's chest. Fingers toyed and twisted nipples into a taut sensitively that drew quick breaths from the parted lips underneath. Feigning urgency, he pushed his abdomen down against Sephiroth, feeling hot, hard naked flesh against his own. It gave him a flash of content - how he alone had this effect on the General, whilst he himself had to work up his erection beforehand.

Since the degradation began his body had begun to disobey him, small things at first that threatened to become more and more difficult over time. Moving with the speed he used to in battle gave him nothing but stabbing pains in his joints, like an old mannequin in need of oil.

In his rage, he no longer found his lover so intensely attractive. True, it was still there when the man moaned, feline eyes narrowing further as he guided his head down for a thorough kiss, but a glance no longer left him weak at the knees and bleating for completion like a lamb. He found the build up, the fight for dominance, more enticing now. He ached to make Sephiroth fight for the right to be the one to penetrate him and take away all of the defences he had constructed as a child.

Before he could draw himself out of his musing, Genesis found himself on his back. The knowledge first came with the jolt of pain from his shoulder and then with Sephiroth assaulting his body with everything he had. Hands tore his legs apart, leaving a room the man was too eager to fill; lips and teeth found places in his skin. Genesis' nails were digging into his palms, the smell of iron and mako growing as he clenched harder and harder. The pain dulled the maliciousness that infected his brain.

_Fight!_ it screamed, a shredding, shrieking sound. It knew that in terms of tactics, Genesis stood a chance of winning. With Sephiroth so distracted with his lover's body, Genesis had the advantage of surprise. He also had the ability of using magic without materia, unlike Sephiroth, whose supplies were all kept in the adjoining room. _Fight him and take what's rightfully yours!_

Sephiroth's lips continued, lower than the neck, trailing a damn line down his chest. Genesis tensed, arching his back and sucking in a breath, anticipating the nipple play that never came. Instead he found that the General preferred sliding his tongue and in and of his navel, repeatedly, and sucked hard enough to leave a mark that would last longer than normal now. It was as if he knew about Genesis' plans, and how he was being shipped off to war the following morning and was planning to make Genesis remorseful. He couldn't know though, Genesis assured himself. Only he, Hollander and Lazard knew the truth, and neither of those would risk their ambitions purely for Sephiroth's sake.

Fearing more damage to his now delicate body and wavering state of health, Genesis wrapped his fingers around the bars of the headboard, digging his nails into the soft varnished wood in the stead of his palms. Sephiroth finished his attack and raised that slim, irritatingly gorgeous face back up, locking icy green eyes with Genesis' clouded azure. No attention was spent on his cock. Genesis was overcome with relief.

For Sephiroth to prove the control he had, dictating both pace and the final climax with nothing but his tongue, Genesis was sure would make him sick.

Again, he cursed himself. He wanted away with these bitter thoughts and the near sadistic fantasies that played in dark corners of the recesses of his mind; twisted flashes of black and scarlet, dominated by sound. Screams, moans and whimpers. All things he was hearing in reality. Whilst his mind was occupied, his body knew how to react to every one of Sephiroth's caresses; knew how to respond to the man's own favour.

_Yes,_ Genesis decided. _I can hide within myself, like I always used to and let the world play out around me._ His mind could barely feel Sephiroth's moist fingers circle his entrance what was intended to be teasingly slowly, pressing the taut muscle gently and then pushing wholly inside. His body, however, came to life in the absence of conscience and made the appropriate sounds – breathless gasps of the General's name that earned a wolfish grin – and immediately arched and rode the single finger at a steady pace.

And Sephiroth loomed over him, greedy and ignorant, thinking that everything was perfect and this was nothing more than a pleasant awakening in the middle of the night. For all he knew, this was a dream. Surely, Genesis' quiet enthusiasm made him wonder? But those eyes remained smug and green. Genesis could only hope that his own did not betray him.

Then, as Sephiroth began to finish his routine of stretching – something that wasn't as needed as he thought, but done so anyway in some misplaced sense of caring - Genesis' cerulean eyes narrowed; hardened into a steely glare. Next came the part that would force him onto the path that lead to the part he hated the most: coming undone beneath and because of Sephiroth, letting him take yet another thing from him. Genesis was sure, that if Sephiroth desired it so, in the moment when the sky was closer than the ground he could easily snatch away what remained of his sanity.

It scared him, but he reminded himself that it was just for tonight.

_Can't I just enjoy this for what it is?_ Genesis asked himself. The part that wondered was a small, decreasing corner of his mind, all around surrounded by the twisted darkness of his hungry malice. _We're sharing…_ he had offered himself to the General as the action had been mutual.

Closing his eyes and tilting his head back on the soft pillows, warm and clouding his senses with the scent of their long past as friends and lovers, Genesis' jaw fell slack, uttering feeble words of pleasure as Sephiroth sank deep inside him, impaling him with an avaricious beam of gleaming white teeth.

His hatred dulled the elation; each glimpse of Sephiroth working up a sweat as he worked his hips between Genesis' passive thighs increased the nausea that was swirling in the redhead's stomach. Of all the stupid things to have put himself through… why the thing he hated the most? Because he loved it the most.

Then Genesis saw how Sephiroth's expression had contorted, the pace quickened; desperation showed, but he felt nothing himself. He just wasn't anywhere near completion, or swept along by any form of sexual desire. He lay there, locked up inside a body that reacted upon instinct and pretending that the hands of orgasm were grasping tightly to him, bruising skin and digging nails deep into him. Or that could've just been the General.

He came and nothing more, having to fake the orgasm with a loud moan and reactions for the other's satisfaction. And to avoid inquiries. Sephiroth, however, lost himself, lowering his head and thrusting harder and harder into Genesis' body until the only sounds the redhead were making were those of pain, though such a thing was quickly hidden behind the façade of delight.

And his acting went undetected by ShinRa's star, heavy breathing a performance as Sephiroth collapsed boneless upon him, smiling in a way that was once endearing. It mocked with all the sweetness. And then the silver haired man rolled back onto his side and continued to sleep, leaving Genesis staring up at the darkening ceiling, feeling cold and violated by none other than himself.


End file.
